


The Girl From the Next Galaxy Over

by Medie



Category: DCU Animated, Sherlock (TV), Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-01
Updated: 2012-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-30 11:07:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/331095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft knows, of course, because Mycroft <em>must</em>, but Sherlock can never. There'd be no quelling it. Sherlock with his imagined rivalry with Batman and his apathy toward the whole bloody Justice League? John can just imagine how a revelation like the Stargate Program would go over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Girl From the Next Galaxy Over

**Author's Note:**

> Started for a drabble meme last year. I believe this was supposed to also include Kara Zor-El (hence the DCU elements) but she didn't quite make it in (one of the nurses at Sarah's clinic I believe). Ah well, maybe a sequel!

It's a strange thing, being home. More so than John had imagined it would be and in ways that he hadn't.

In her way, London is as alive and mysterious as Atlantis had ever been, but its _vibrant_ , teeming with life in a way Atlantis lost far too long. If, that is, it ever actually had. He can't imagine the chaos of a London street or even a fraction thereof on one of Atlantis's walkways. The sanitized, austere pathways of that ten thousand year dead city nothing in comparison to the dirty, bustling streets of its younger cousin. He wakes each morning to the sounds of the street below and not American marines getting in an early-morning run. 

There are no Wraith, no energy vampires made of black smoke, but there are Moriartys, Morans, and countless other—as yet unnamed— criminal types lurking in the wings. 

"And then there's Sherlock," he says, grinning as he picks up his tea. "Bit like McKay, in his way." A comparison he'd never thought, back in Atlantis, that he'd make. Never thought possible. How wrong he is and, oddly enough, how delighted he is at being so wrong.

Teyla tips a smile, leaning in. She's as lovely as ever, comfortable in the quiet pub, and he lets himself appreciate it. It's supposed to be strange that she fits in so easily, the Teyla of his fantasies never would, but then this is the real Teyla. The Teyla that's filled his dreams is otherworldly and ethereal in places like this. Bit ridiculous, of course. Teyla is never otherworldly or ethereal, he's seen the woman tell dirty jokes, beat the pants off Sheppard and his mates in a game of American football, and he's seen her fight. 

Reality does have its improvements.

"Like Rodney? That must have made it difficult in the beginning."

"Oh God, yes," John nods. "Thought it would make it easier, but I was wrong on that." 

"The urge to compare?" 

"Something like that," John licks tea from his lip. "At first, though, it was overconfidence. Thought I had him all sorted. Dealt with that before, after all. Raging arrogance, god-complex, so on and so forth."

Teyla smiles wider. "And, precisely, how long did that last?"

"Surprisingly? Right up to the eyeballs in the microwave." 

He's not surprised when her smile wavers. "The—" Teyla stops, considering, and John hides his grin. She looks a bit like she did every time he walked in on the Rodney'n'Radek Hour. "I do _not_ believe I wish to know what you mean."

"Oh, those were literal eyeballs in a literal microwave," John assures, cheerfully, getting up. There's a whole city yet to explore and they're not going to see any of it by spending their time at a corner table in the back of a pub. Though that idea certainly is very, very tempting. "Sherlock's devotion to scientific discovery knows few boundaries and is certainly not for the squeamish." 

Teyla's facing away from him as he helps her into her coat. ""Or myself apparently. How do you manage it?"

"The judicious application of labels and absolute avoidance of late night snacking," John says, chuckling. "It's served me well thus far." 

"And into the future one hopes," Teyla grins. 

"Have you seen Superman, yet?" he asks, tucking her arm in his as they head out the door and cross the street at a near dash.

Teyla keeps up easily. She's acclimating with her usual terrifying efficiency and, christ, but he wants to see her after a month or two of London's influence. She'd love it here. He'd love to see her here. The city would _adore_ her. 

He's seized of the urge to introduce her to Sherlock, just to see what he'd suss out about her, but it passes quickly. Sadly, but quickly.

Mycroft knows, of course, because Mycroft _must_ , but Sherlock can never. There'd be no quelling it. Sherlock with his imagined rivalry with Batman and his apathy toward the whole bloody Justice League? John can just imagine how a revelation like the Stargate Program would go over.

"I have," Teyla says. She looks up on reflex, and he does the same, as if Superman might whip overhead on cue. He doesn't, of course, and John's disappointed, no matter how illogical it might seem. "The last of his race."

He hears the implications and nods, "Yeah, Ronon's come to mind more than once. Don't think they'd make good mates though." Just as quick as he says it, he's laughing. "All the same, I'd have said the same about me and Sherlock, so there's that to consider." His luck at predicting these things, Ronon and Superman might end up best mates. "Anyhow, Superman's not actually the last. He's had a cousin turn up while I was away. Supergirl—well, she'd likely be Super _woman_ now, I'd imagine. Not that anyone's seen her lately. She tends to stay in reserve unless something truly horrific occurs." Planetary invasions and the like which, really, did tend to happen with shocking frequency. It was no wonder Sherlock could be so put out over it all. The Justice League stole his thunder on quite a regular basis. 

"All this and still your Stargate is a secret?" Teyla frowns. "It's so strange."

"Well, wasn't our call, really. The Americans decided that. We didn't find out until years later and that didn't happen until the world was just about ready to come falling down around our ears. They do that a lot, if you've noticed." Though it's all just as well, John imagines. People had handled superheroes and Superman and the lot all well enough, but...well. People were an odd sort most of the time.

"Ah, yes, _politics_." Teyla pays attention. He thinks, maybe, she enjoys the truly ridiculous spectacle of it all. 

"Yes, exactly, politics. Another reason that it works so well at present. The rowing over who got the gate would be bloody epic." Epic _and_ bloody. The wars fought would be endless and pointless. No, for now, it was quite well served as it was. 

Aliens zipping about the sky in their underwear and saving the world were all well and good. Aliens turning Cheyenne Mountain into Heathrow was quite another.

Just think of the property values and all. 

Not to mention Sherlock's reaction to the Asgard. John cringes just to think about it and, yet, wishes just the same. 

"So," he says, giving her a grin, "Where next?"


End file.
